


Shameless

by Kujaku



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Rare Pairings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-19
Updated: 2018-07-19
Packaged: 2019-06-13 00:56:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15352662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kujaku/pseuds/Kujaku
Summary: Find me at kujaku-myoo and/or see-you-on-the-barricade @ tumblr! :D





	Shameless

Paris never slept. Never. It was a never-ending parade of lights and laughter and twisting alleyways and cafés, and no matter what time of day or night it was, there was always someone, something, some place or anything else worth staying awake a few more moments. Awake or at least conscious, which was about all that Grantaire could manage at that moment, until he stepped into a puddle and splashed his trousers.  
The shitty end to a shitty day, that was all. He could hardly stand up, the candles in the windows were burning his eyes and harsh words were going round and round in his mind. And he’d earned them, bloody hell.   
He’d said things, things had been replied, words had been thrown like stones and had cut like the sharpest knife, and he’d left before things got really too heated and he ended up with a good punch to the face. So here he was, walking down the too-gaudy streets of Belleville - one of the not-so-pretty suburbs of Paris - and trying to clear his head a bit.

Loud laughter right near him made him jump and he saw one of the numerous tiny cafés that bordered the streets. His bottle had finished in the gutter somewhere, and at that very precise moment, he really had no other plans.

 

*

 

 - Well, well, well, would you look who’s come down from up on high.

Grantaire knew that voice and sure enough, the lithe shape that was Montparnasse came out from a shadowy part of the café and came to sit at his table.   
It was strange to be this close ; they only really knew each other either by association or  by quick glances in the street, and Grantaire had to push himself to remember the last time they’d actually spoken to each other. But his muddled mind hardly got started when Montparnasse clicked his head and grinned.

\- Come slumming have we? Trying to get something off your mind? Or someone, maybe…

\- Don’t you have a poor defenceless woman to stab? I don’t have anything.

\- Touchy.. I’m only here to see if you need anything.

The smile on the criminal’s face was anything but sincere, and Grantaire shrugged.

\- My wallet is empty, as are my pockets, Croesus does not bless me, neither do any brave divine persons who might look upon my misery with kind eyes…

\- Well maybe if you stopped drinking and wallowing in self-pity, you’d actually get somewhere. Who knows, you might just be able to stop fucking things up with that bunch of idiot friends of yours.

Grantaire didn’t answer, willing as hard as he could for Montparnasse to just leave him alone. It was hard enough having the ragged remains of his conscious telling him he’d messed up, he really didn’t need someone else saying the same thing.  But apparently, Montparnasse was in a talkative mood, and Grantaire waved a hand between them.

\- Don’t even pretend to care.

\- I don’t. But I can’t say it’s not fun to see how easy it is to get under that ugly skin of yours.

\- Would you please go away? I’d like to get drunk  and it’s hard to concentrate on the finer points of intense intoxication with a fly buzzing in my ear. What are you even doing here anyway?

\- A certain someone asked me to come and make sure you weren’t doing anything stupid.

\- Running errands for Enjolras now?

\- It’s adorable how he’s the first and only person on your mind, but no. Still, I have to ask. What makes you possibly imagine that you’ll ever have a chance with him? He’s him and you, well… You’re you.

\- Meaning what?

\- That you’d do better to stick to more achievable goals.

\- You mean that the only ones who’ll want me are the street rats and the other unfortunate souls cast into the dark streets and that I should throw my lot and myself among them?

\- Ridiculous poetry aside, yes.

\- So, I guess that counts you as one of them. Interested?

 

Montparnasse stiffened.

\- Did you just proposition me?

\- It would be a proposition only if I’d asked you how much you took for a night. I didn’t, so let’s say I only asked a friend if he was up for a drunken night of Elysium, no strings attached.

\- You’re not my friend.

\- And I hardly think you’re Elysium. But after a few more drinks,  who really cares? 

He knew his mouth was running away with him again and he’d end up with that well-deserved punch. But to his eternal surprise, Montparnasse held out his hand and cocked his head.

\- I’m not busy right now, I suppose I could loose ten minutes. 

\- I’d ask if you want to go to my place or yours, but let’s be honest, your place is probably under a bridge, and my trousers are already wet enough. Mine it is, then.

 

*

 

Grantaire was drunk. He’d been perfectly drunk since the beginning of the afternoon and it was already nearly dawn, but even in his wildest dreams - nightmares? - he wouldn’t have imagined ever being in his cluttered rooms under the rooftops, a candle flickering in the breeze from the open window, and a lingering taste of cherries on his lips, as he slammed into Montparnasse over and over again.

And he was distracted by the smallest things : how delicate the assassin’s wrists were in his own large hands, how breathless he sounded each time he edged closer, how their bodies curled together like too many bad ideas.

  
He came, in a grunt that he almost regretted as he met Montparnasse’s dark gaze, and gave a small shrug. No words were necessary now, this wasn’t a love scene, this was a one-night thing only. 

  
He didn’t move from the bed while Montparnasse got up and dressed quickly, the cool dawn light cutting across his features like a guillotine and giving his skin an almost ghost-like sheen. And wouldn’t that have been something perfectly romantic? When you couldn’t have a man, fuck a ghost… Jehan would love the story, but Grantaire was pretty certain he wouldn’t tell a soul about this…

\-  It’s a good thing I’m not jealous, you know? 

Grantaire shook his head, terrifying sobriety and post-coital hormones making a complicated alchemical array in his mind.

\- Jealous? 

\- My name isn’t Enjolras, no matter how often you moan it.

\- I’m shameless, what do you care? 

\- I don’t.

Montparnasse took an apple from the bedside table and smiled, taking a big bite.

\- But you know? I might buy a blonde wig for next time, what do you think?

**Author's Note:**

> Find me at kujaku-myoo and/or see-you-on-the-barricade @ tumblr! :D


End file.
